


Destined To Tread

by CourierNinetyTwo



Series: RWBY Relationship Week 2016 [3]
Category: RWBY
Genre: F/F, White Fang AU, rwbyrsweek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-17
Updated: 2016-02-17
Packaged: 2018-05-21 04:23:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6037888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CourierNinetyTwo/pseuds/CourierNinetyTwo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Velvet and Blake grow up together in the White Fang, only to find themselves diverting to a different path.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Destined To Tread

Among the White Fang, they were known as twins, despite having been born eight months apart.

It was in the way they moved and worked in unison, a behavior fostered soon after their Auras were unlocked. The ritual was standard to all watching at the time, passed on by a grizzled wolf-eared shaman who smiled often although she lacked most of her teeth, but ever since then, Blake and Velvet existed in perfect sync.

Some of it was training, but the rest was Velvet’s Semblance manifesting early, and her ability to duplicate any movement she saw down to the last reflexive detail meant always matching progress with Blake. They often sparred together beyond the point of exhaustion, working out the weakness of each technique until perfection was second nature. At just fourteen, Adam sent them out together to sabotage the fence outside a Schnee Dust quarry, and adrenaline from the mischief left both young Faunus laughing and giddy.

That the trio of corporate officers inside said quarry were found dead at the bottom of a deep mineshaft a night later never made it to Blake or Velvet’s ears – not then.

It was like games played in their youth, really. Blake stole Dust as easily as she had once stolen food, and Velvet had an eye for taking things apart that worked on engines and safes alike. In return for their service, a few older members of the Fang had cobbled together a gift of weapons – meant for self-defense – forged from scrap metal and ‘reacquired’ police pistols, built to identical specs that left them easily concealed.

And they matched, which Blake and Velvet both took pride in.

Even within the largest camps, resources were often scarce, but Blake used her comb on Velvet’s hair every morning and Velvet always shared her carved wooden spoon when the daily stew was too hot to be sipped straight from the bowl. With neither left wanting, eventually they started to share a bedroll as well, and no one cared to comment. At long-limbed seventeen now, those in charge considered them old enough to make such choices, and there was no present concern about misbegotten children.

Still, Adam had warned Blake about getting distracted on various occasions, but she dismissed his words with a shrug. Velvet was half her focus on the field; they were obligated to pay attention to each other’s feelings, sussing out moods and blind spots.

Then the woman came to their camp.

Blake didn’t know her name at first – Velvet, with her implacable hearing, said a pair named Emerald and Mercury made up the human’s entourage – but the offer she made to Adam was simply unbelievable. He refused, of course, but a week later Velvet had dragged her awake to gasp that the camp was on fire.

Together they salvaged most of the supply tent and almost half the dwellings, but from the ashes, that woman appeared again, golden eyes glowing with a power that turned the lush green of Mistral’s summer into withered, crackling red.

Adam made the deal that night. Before the sun had risen, he gave them orders to kill someone – which had never happened before.

“We’re not murderers!” Blake snapped, pacing back and forth inside the tent. Velvet’s foot was tapping, repressing the urge to mirror her restless movement. “How can he even ask?”

“Adam’s killed before.” She kept the words at a whisper, running a thumb over the slender black ribbon tied around one wrist; a birthday gift from Blake years before. “And not just…security guards.”

“But we–” For a moment, Blake was struck silent, looking down at her own hands. “He had to. Didn’t he?”

Velvet swallowed hard, trying to find her own voice. “I hope so.”

“Why us? Why now?” Blake’s boot scraped canvas as she turned to face Velvet. “That human’s done this to him! It has to be.”

“Blake–”

“All he wants is an accident.” Her breath quickened, daring close to a panicked rhythm. “For the elevator to lose power at the wrong time. Maybe the target won’t even die.”

From what Velvet had seen in the dossier, the man in question was Chief of Border Control for the Vale-Mistral boundary line, but despite hiring an entire cadre of bodyguards, he was no hunter. With his Aura locked, a fall from that height almost guaranteed death. “Blake. We don’t have to do this.”

“Yes, we do.” The words were uttered with the weight of surrender, crushing in the confession. “You know we do.”

Fear twisted low in Velvet’s stomach. She and Blake had only ever argued over minor trifles, but in the clutch, their minds were one and the same. All there was to do was pray that still held out now. “We could leave. W-we talked about it before.”

Always on missions, always miles away from where anyone else in the White Fang could hear. With every passing year, the urge grew stronger, even if neither of them could pinpoint the exact reasons why.

“And go where?” Blake asked. “No village wants a pair of outlaw Faunus to feed.”

“I still have family back in Menagerie somewhere. Only my parents came over to the mainland.” Dead now for years, owing to one of the local government’s ‘private military interrogations’. “Or Vale. You said you wanted to go to school there.”

“You–” A dry sniffle followed, tears forced back. “You’d go with me?”

Unable to keep still any longer, Velvet rushed forward, pulling Blake into a bone-crushing hug. “Anywhere. Anywhere you want.”

Arms locked tight around her hips, keeping their bodies pressed together. “Visas. The target’s got to have access to them.”

Velvet smiled; Blake was always thinking on her feet. “If the machine is there, I can print out a set. Give us new names.”

“Can you make the elevator stop?” Blake asked, the words muffled into her shoulder. “Not to kill him. Just to keep the target stuck while we break in.”

“I will.” Velvet said, tracing her fingers across the dark ends of Blake’s hair. Years of wishing were finally coming to fruition. “We can do this, okay? We’re not kids fumbling in the shadows anymore.”

Blake nodded. “But what about _her_? Cinder or whatever her name is.”

“We can’t stop her by ourselves. Not that kind of power.” Fire hot enough to flense flesh down to bone in the blink of an eye, arrows that cut through three men with one shot. “But we can run.”

“I’m always running.” It was spit out in a sharp exhale, matched by a faint twitch of shame.

“To a better path, Blake.” Maybe if she said it loud enough, it would become real, a sure thing. “Pride won’t help you go the distance.”

Blake winced, absorbing the sting, but her arms tightened around Velvet, nails biting into white fabric, the tunic emblazoned with the White Fang’s symbol.

They would wear their masks one last time, then seize the threads of fate between their teeth until each one snapped.

–-

**Author's Note:**

> “He was always striving to attain it. The life that was so swiftly expanding within him, urged him continually toward the wall of light. The life that was within him knew that it was the one way out, the way he was predestined to tread.” ― Jack London, White Fang


End file.
